


In the end

by viflow



Series: Lost on you [8]
Category: Supernatural, destiel - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Coda 15x18, Coda 15x19, M/M, POV Dean Winchester, POV Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:22:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27610637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viflow/pseuds/viflow
Summary: He’d never mentioned it. And while he was grieving and suffering too, walking around with a deep, Cas shaped hollow in his chest, Sam knew it was different for his brother.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Lost on you [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/730866
Comments: 16
Kudos: 123





	In the end

He’s been there before, Dean reminded himself. He knew this, this sharp, gut wrenching, breath taking, chest tightening, devasting pain, that was his second-best friend.

Except…

But before he’d fall into that typical and pathetic mind-set again Dean cursed himself, stood up from the floor, wiped at his eyes with the sleeve of his coat and set his thoughts on the job at hand. He stepped out into the corridor and called Sam back.

Cas said it was what he did. Fighting, killing monsters, saving people, staying one step ahead of the next bad, trying to keep everybody safe. Cas said he could do it.

Cas’ sacrifice mustn’t be for nothing, Dean told himself as he took one shaky step after another toward the garage.

He saw Cas’ truck parked in the garage beside the impala, and with a sudden, twisting pain in his chest, Dean remembered the flutter of excitement under his ribs when he came back with Jack, and realized Cas was back. That little vibe of warmth and contentment he felt, a feeling that made him think of Home.

The need, the want for Cas hit him so suddenly and forcefully that Dean had to grab and press his palms down, hard, on his abdomen against the pain when his body bent itself in half under the weight of his anguish.

He struggled for air; he could no longer breathe. His chest burned. The air was nothing and he was choking. He felt dizzy from the lack of air. His head snagged, his shoulder bunched and his legs shook. His knees buckled, he felt like falling. One of his trembling hands reached out to hold against the side of Baby, preventing his body from crumpling to the ground.

He wanted — Dean realized, drawing in a slow, steadying breath — he wanted Cas to be his Home. He wanted Cas always be at his side, wanted to spend the nights with him and wake up to the sight of him. Wanted to grow old with him. He wanted Cas to confide in him, to share with him every part of him that had been, that was, that would be. He needed Cas to turn to him when he was troubled or sad, and be the cause or at least be present for every moment of Cas’ happiness.

But he’d been a fucking, lying coward almost from the beginning, Dean told himself with a small, bitter chuckle— that burned the inside of his mouth and spreading down like acid, marred his throat — because he didn’t want to drift from the path of his upbringing, nor did he want to admit the truth of what he was really feeling. So, he poked at Cas, prodded him, pushed him away, mocked and hurt him subtly and not so subtly, all in the name, to keep his distance. While for the whole fucking time a part of him; the part that was heart and longing and want, was hurting and got the more wounded and bleeding the more he pushed, and respecting his wish, Cas' became more and more reserved and aloof.

He opened Baby’s door and dropped down in her seat. He laid his trembling hand on her steering wheel.

He wanted the boy, Jack, too. He didn’t want him to be Cas’ son, but _their_ son.

Despite everything he said, he did, without even realizing it, he’d grown to love the boy.

Maybe because Cas did.

Maybe because his faith never wavering, Cas believed in Jack. Maybe because Cas was so bloody convinced that Jack was about to bring a fucking paradise to Earth. To bring light, something exceptional and good to this world.

But maybe it wasn't just that. Maybe even apart from that, Dean realized, he’d gotten used to and looked forward to that quick, wide, innocent smile, to that warm-hearted, joyful greeting of Jack's.

And wasn’t that the core of it? The way he felt about Sam, Cas or Jack. Protective, proprietary and possessive. Even when he was a fucking arrogant jerk. Even when he was an ass or disappointed and downright mad, dangerous, furious, and even when he said shit he didn’t really mean.

Cas, Sam and Jack. They were his family.

So, that was that, Dean thought. Fighting, trying to keep his family safe, make Cas’ stupid sacrifice worth something... And when they're done with all this latest shit and if he’s gonna still live, he’s gonna find a way to bring that self-sacrifising idiot back. With his stupid, dumb trench coat, crooked tie, messy black hair and his ridiculously lot of blue, clear, freaking summer sky blue eyes, Dean decided with an abrupt, fierce determination, suddenly frantic to get this whole Chuck business over with...

…………………….

They won. Chuck was human and totally harmless. Jack the new God. All their friends from the Apocalypse and this world: Charlie, Bobby, Donna, Jody and the girls were back. And Eilleen… Sam reminded himself again with another sudden sharp jolt of happiness.

Then his mood made an extraction from the root, when it hit him- sharp, horrible and cold- in his gut.

Everybody was back. Everybody, but Cas.

With a weight on his chest, Sam studied his brother through the flickering light of the war room.

There was grief, sorrow and guilt. Even through Dean’s usual façade, deep and abiding, all of it was there.

They were there in the hunch of Dean’s shoulders. In the emptiness of his once bright, lively green eyes. In the tiny, trembling twitch of his lips when he thought nobody was watching. In the quirking, curled smiles that never reached his eyes. In the increasing numbers of empty bottles of beer and whiskey scattered all around the Bunker’s rooms. And in the moments when Sam woke during the nights, standing and listening helplessly before his brother’s door as Dean: ripped to pieces in a nightmare, sobbed and screamed — varying in fury, pain, longing or guilt — for Cas.

He’d never mentioned it. And while he was grieving and suffering too, walking around with a deep, Cas shaped hollow in his chest, Sam knew it was different for his brother.

And by now he knew— he’s learned it through failed, tough, disastrous lessons over the years of attempting to bring any kind of solace to his brother, every time they lost Cas — that there wasn’t gonna be anything but the Angel himself, to stop the suffering that was wreathing through and day by day slowly killing his brother.

**Author's Note:**

> So, due to COVID- as I'm sure just like plenty of you around the world- I've got home officed since Monday, then today I've got this recommendation from Youtube:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=noCh3rWucZc, and after watching it, I sat down and wrote this. At this point, I just really don't know if, or how or where it's gonna go.


End file.
